Casualties
by celinenaville
Summary: Hannibal awakes to find himself wounded and helpless in the hands of a Vietnamese woman in 'Nam. I decided to write a fan fic to try and make Hannibal vulnerable and break down the exterior.
1. Chapter 1

**Please Review. :) Not that I'm pathetic and begging or anything... ;)**

**Casualties**

Chapter One

Hannibal's blue eyes fluttered open. Where was he? He started to sit up and felt hands push him back down. Firmly, but gently. He still didn't know where he was. Or what was happening. He cast around, realized he was indoors – pain tugged at the back of his mind. He was injured. He didn't like where he was. He started to sit up again and a face came into focus. A young woman with dark hair.

The French put things back in focus. 'Nam. He was in 'Nam. Last remembered, he was in General Chow's Death Camp. Wherever he was now – this wasn't it. He'd been rescued somehow.

"Wh –" he cleared his throat. "Where are we?"

She put a finger to his lips and made a soothing noise as if to quiet a baby. "Ca va bien."

He moved her hand away with his own. "Parlez-anglais?"

"Oui," a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "You are sick." She touched a hand to his forehead and smoothed back his soft hair that was beginning to turn silver prematurely. "We found you. You were lucky. Not many survived. I will take care of you."

Hannibal cast an eye at his surroundings. He wasn't in the hospital. Possibly a hut. A private residence. So it wasn't a military operation that had gotten him out – but a guerrilla force – hiding, biding their time, trying to help the Americans and French.

She held a cup to his lips and helped to some water. "Drink slowly, John."

"Hannibal," he replied. "Hannibal Smith."

She picked up the dog tags on his partly bare chest. "John."

"Mmmm... People call me Hannibal. It's a nickname."

She smiled again in response. He thought to himself the women had no place in war. Yet it was in their own country. How could they not be involved? He felt a wave of impatience sweep through him. What good was he, lying here? He tried to sit up again and her hand gripped his arm. "You are a bad patient!"

"Believe it, sweetheart." He muttered. Even in the state he was in, he won the brief struggle. He immediately wished that he hadn't. Pain shot through him suddenly and he gritted his teeth against it.

"Why are you doing this? Where will you go?" Frustration laced her tone. "You are safe. You need time to heal. Lay down."

Some part of his mind told him that she was right – but the other part – the stubborn part that was so much in charge of him that he hadn't broken, even under torture, made him lurch to his feet. She rose with him, distressed. She barely came up to his chin. "No!" She cried. "Down!"

He grabbed hold of her arms, gripped her strongly. "Where are we? I –" he swayed drunkenly. Closed his eyes against a wave of pain.

"Hannibal." She looked up at him. "You are safe."

"I –" his breath caught in an almost sob . He went down on his knees, nearly taking her with him. Her arms were around him suddenly. "Shhhh."

He buried his face in her shoulder, a hitch still his breathing.

"You're safe." She told him again. She helped him lay back down. "It is okay." He was shuddering.

"Yeah," he said softly, feeling vaguely like a confused child. "What's wrong with me?"

"You lack water. You lack food." She brushed his cheek fondly with the back of her hand. "You have bruises, you lack sleep."

_Dehydration. Exhaustion. Contusions._

"You have too much heat."

_Fever. Sunstroke_. He wasn't sure what she meant.

"How many others did you save?" He asked.

"Five maybe six."

He gritted his teeth. "So few."

"You worry about you. You need to get better."

"Oh, okay mother." He replied with a half smirk.

She took his hand. "I think you need a mother now."

He squeezed it lightly. "Maybe I do."

Hannibal drew in a ragged breath and closed his eyes, the tension leaving his face a little. "I'm tired."

"Good. Medications make you sleep." She talked to him soothingly for a few minutes until he drifted off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Please Review. :) Not that I'm pathetic and begging or anything... ;)**

**Casualties**

Chapter One

Hannibal's blue eyes fluttered open. Where was he? He started to sit up and felt hands push him back down. Firmly, but gently. He still didn't know where he was. Or what was happening. He cast around, realized he was indoors – pain tugged at the back of his mind. He was injured. He didn't like where he was. He started to sit up again and a face came into focus. A young woman with dark hair.

The French put things back in focus. 'Nam. He was in 'Nam. Last remembered, he was in General Chow's Death Camp. Wherever he was now – this wasn't it. He'd been rescued somehow.

"Wh –" he cleared his throat. "Where are we?"

She put a finger to his lips and made a soothing noise as if to quiet a baby. "Ca va bien."

He moved her hand away with his own. "Parlez-anglais?"

"Oui," a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "You are sick." She touched a hand to his forehead and smoothed back his soft hair that was beginning to turn silver prematurely. "We found you. You were lucky. Not many survived. I will take care of you."

Hannibal cast an eye at his surroundings. He wasn't in the hospital. Possibly a hut. A private residence. So it wasn't a military operation that had gotten him out – but a guerrilla force – hiding, biding their time, trying to help the Americans and French.

She held a cup to his lips and helped to some water. "Drink slowly, John."

"Hannibal," he replied. "Hannibal Smith."

She picked up the dog tags on his partly bare chest. "John."

"Mmmm... People call me Hannibal. It's a nickname."

She smiled again in response. He thought to himself the women had no place in war. Yet it was in their own country. How could they not be involved? He felt a wave of impatience sweep through him. What good was he, lying here? He tried to sit up again and her hand gripped his arm. "You are a bad patient!"

"Believe it, sweetheart." He muttered. Even in the state he was in, he won the brief struggle. He immediately wished that he hadn't. Pain shot through him suddenly and he gritted his teeth against it.

"Why are you doing this? Where will you go?" Frustration laced her tone. "You are safe. You need time to heal. Lay down."

Some part of his mind told him that she was right – but the other part – the stubborn part that was so much in charge of him that he hadn't broken, even under torture, made him lurch to his feet. She rose with him, distressed. She barely came up to his chin. "No!" She cried. "Down!"

He grabbed hold of her arms, gripped her strongly. "Where are we? I –" he swayed drunkenly. Closed his eyes against a wave of pain.

"Hannibal." She looked up at him. "You are safe."

"I –" his breath caught in an almost sob . He went down on his knees, nearly taking her with him. Her arms were around him suddenly. "Shhhh."

He buried his face in her shoulder, a hitch still his breathing.

"You're safe." She told him again. She helped him lay back down. "It is okay." He was shuddering.

"Yeah," he said softly, feeling vaguely like a confused child. "What's wrong with me?"

"You lack water. You lack food." She brushed his cheek fondly with the back of her hand. "You have bruises, you lack sleep."

_Dehydration. Exhaustion. Contusions._

"You have too much heat."

_Fever. Sunstroke_. He wasn't sure what she meant.

"How many others did you save?" He asked.

"Five maybe six."

He gritted his teeth. "So few."

"You worry about you. You need to get better."

"Oh, okay mother." He replied with a half smirk.

She took his hand. "I think you need a mother now."

He squeezed it lightly. "Maybe I do."

Hannibal drew in a ragged breath and closed his eyes, the tension leaving his face a little. "I'm tired."

"Good. Medications make you sleep." She talked to him soothingly for a few minutes until he drifted off.

**Chapter 2**

Xua watched the soldier's blue eyes flutter open. She could tell immediately that he felt better. The vulnerable confusion was gone – the clouded look. Now there was an exacting intelligence about them, and as he looked at her, a bit of mischief.

"Good morning," he said with a half smile, less like he was a sick patient and more like he were waking up from a one night stand. Xua approached him with some warmed soup. His smile widened. "Breakfast in bed." He propped himself up on one elbow.

She knelt down next to him. "You are trouble."

"Only as much as you want me to be, Doctor." Barely able to move and already his tone and eyes were promising more than his body could handle. Trouble indeed.

"Sip slowly, or you will get sick. Too much food after no food is hard on the stomach.

Hannibal sat up and took the bowl from her. He took a spoonful and his stomach made an ominous noise, punctuating her warning. After weeks of subsisting on only worm infested rotting scraps of whatever he could get his hands on, he really needed no reminder to take it slow.

"What's your name?" He asked after a moment.

"Xua."

"Well Xua. Do you make a regular habit of rescuing American soldiers?"

She tilted her chin up. "Yes."

He raised an eyebrow at her challenging tone. "Good." He set the soup back down, still feeling weak.

She sat next to his cot. "You are not used to being like this."

"Like what?"

"Tired. Helpless."

"No." He conceded. "No, I'm not."

She smiled. "It is good for you to learn."

"Oh yeah," Hannibal replied sarcastically. "Great."

"Your spirit needs lessons too . Not just the body."

Hannibal locked his blue eyes on her. "My body is _very_ good at lessons." Something about his expression made her blush.

She laughed. "You are handsome."

"I am." His tone was neither a question nor statement.

"You are used to getting your own way… But…" She touched a finger to his nose. "You are my patient. You must listen to me."

He grinned, a flash of white teeth. "What are your orders, ma'am?"

"Rest." She touched his shoulder and help to lie back down. He found the action rather difficult. He groaned despite himself.

"See. It is good for you."

Hannibal gritted his teeth. "I fail to see how this benefits me."

"It teaches you patience. How to be vulnerable."

"Listen lady," he stopped as another wave of pain shot through him. Her hand was on the back of his neck, stroking gently. "You just need time to heal."

"Okay –" he acquiesced when he could catch his breath. "Okay."

Xua studied him a minute. "I think the medicine is wearing off. I will give you more."

"Would be nice."

Xua returned a moment later with a syringe. Hannibal didn't actually have time to ponder the sterility of it. She rolled up the sleeve of his shirt and talked to him and she worked.

"You are very brave." She slid the needle under his skin.

Hannibal felt better within a few seconds of the injection. A little tipsy, perhaps, but the edge was off the pain. "I'm just doing my duty. You people are brave. You're risking everything to help us."

"This is my home. We will do anything to protect what is ours. So it is my duty as well, perhaps. Why are you here? You Americans do not belong? It is largely our conflict."

"I'm a military man, was Xua. It's what I do. Some people farm, some people teach, and some of us fight."

She looked at him in wonderment. "This is your career? Why choose us?"

"I would have been a lousy farmer." He replied flippantly. Then more earnestly, "someone has to fight to protect the rights of others." His eyes slid closed moment.

"Do you miss your home?"

"Infinitely," Hannibal replied, a lock of silvery blond hair falling across his forehead. Xua brushed it back and Hannibal's blue eyes opened at her touch.

"What is America like?" She asked.

Hannibal was silent a moment. "Big. Vast. Not as hot as here and not as brutal, at least not on the surface. There are mountains, and plains, forests and cities. There is a river near where I grew up where used to swim in the summers. I think about it sometimes over here. I don't know why."

"Do have a family?"

"Not anymore. My mother and father are long gone… I have the men I command."

"No wife?"

"I don't think it would be very fair to her… Sitting at home wondering about whether I'll ever come back."

"You seem lonely."

He smiled his Cheshire cat grin. "I'm not lonely. Lonely is a different thing than being alone."

There was silence a moment as she studied him. "I have never seen eyes your color," she said at last.

"Blue? It's not that unusual where I'm from."

"I have seen blue-eyed Americans – but yours are different. Sky colored. Clear. Cold. There are some here who would find them disturbing, I think. Witch's eyes. You use them to see things others do not."

He shook his head. "I only see things that other people are too careless to notice." His eyes drifted shut again. He felt like he was floating. "Are we done with 20 questions?"

"I am sorry." He felt her draw away. "I am only curious."

You're allowed to be he responded, his speech a little slowed. He drifted into sleep once more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The American's spirit was strong. Every time he was awake, he insisted on testing his limits. At first, those were as simple as using the bathroom and feeding himself – later they were verbal sparring with his would-be nurse, and elaborate plans to take down the camp he escaped from. He wanted to put together a special ops team when he returned. It would be their first mission.

He was even more alluring when his sharp mind was running at full speed, Xua realized. He was also stubborn and strong-willed, and a little patronizing, in an overprotective, alpha male way that never crossed the line into being anything but charming quirk. He was also restless and it was difficult for him to be still. But she forced him.

"You'll be a stronger leader because you had to learn to quiet your mind, Hannibal."

Hannibal eased himself cross-legged under the rush mats covering the floor. "Oh my mind is not quiet – trust me."

She joined him on the floor.

"You know," he volunteered, "when I was younger I wanted to be an actor."

Xua giggled. "What did you want to act in?"

He lit up. "Monster movies! You know the really old ones with soul. Something where the monster has motivation and passion."

"Monsters have passion?"

"Sure they do. Something that drives them. The love of a beautiful woman. The longing to be excepted. The hatred of people that try to hurt them. I'd like to be a character actor. You know, someone who is the backbone of all these movies."

"I went to school in France. I wanted to come back and help my people. Open a school." Xua bit her lip. "That won't happen now."

Hannibal moved closer. "It might yet."

He was close – so close she could feel his breath on her. She lifted up his dog tags. He watched her with his bewitching eyes. Their lips met and she couldn't pull away. His kiss was a reflection of the rest of him – simmering passion barely held in check by a gentleman's reserve. His arms were around her; his kisses growing bolder. Some part of her mind knew she should stop, but she was being pulled under by his magnetism, by the sheer enjoyment of him close to her. He moved to her neck, to the juncture of her shoulder. She tangled her hands and his soft, silvery blond hair.

"Hannibal," she found her breath.

"What?" He splayed his hand across her lower back, rising to his knees, pressing her closer against him.

"We can't do this."

"We seem to be managing," he said into her ear, his voice low and husky.

"We can't," she said weakly.

"We're both adults." He wasn't losing any momentum. His hand drifted under her shirt. "I've been trapped in Hell." He moved back to her mouth again, his kiss a little softer for a moment, less urgent. His eyes had her snared. They were so like the sky. So like a cool spring. Their intelligence was clouded over with a smoldering intensity – promising her pleasure. He leaned against her a little harder and toppled her over backwards onto the rush mats covering the floor. He lowered himself on top of her in the same motion. His battered green military issue shirt fell open and Xua's hands tightened on his shoulders before moving down to his sides. Her gaze floated down the length of his chest to his torso, still laced with unhealed bruises from the weeks before. Her hand gently moved to his ribs and she watched his muscles contract as her fingers floated over them. Their lips parted and he winced before resuming his kisses. She touched him again and he hissed and pulled back reflexively. "Easy Xua, I'm still a little sore."

She caught him by the shoulders, "and that is why we cannot, Hannibal." Her own will was returning, awakening from his spell.

"Because I'm sore? We'll be careful."

"No." She cupped his handsome face in her hands. "Because I cannot use my body as a bandage for you. Your wounds are still too raw. They will only fester that way."

"I –" he wasn't quite mastering himself yet. She could see the battle in his eyes even as his body inexorably sought to push against hers. She could feel the frustration building in him, his muscles tense. "I need this."

"Do you think it will be fair to me when your are shipped back to America and I am left here with your child worrying about whether you will ever come back?" He pulled away, as if stung, and sat back against the wall, looking suddenly exhausted. "No." He covered his face with a trembling hand.

Her body was angry with her at the interruption. She could only imagine what he felt. She lifted her head up, still lying on the floor, watching him and seeing all the painful emotion he sought to channel into sexual life force swell in him. She felt guilty for making him feel it and not being the Band-Aid for his wounds.

He dropped his hand onto his lap looking slightly haunted. "You know the monsters in those movies? They never get the girl."

Xua sat up but kept her distance. He swallowed.

He swallowed. "They can never stop fighting either because someone always comes after them." His silvery bangs had fallen into his eyes and he looked up at her from under their fringe. Xua blinked uncomprehendingly.

Hannibal studied her silently for a moment, swallowed hard. His gaze turned inward. "They tortured me, you know. Lock me up like a beast in a cage." She waited for him to go on, but he didn't.

She moved closer. "That must have been frightening."

He shrugged. "Probably no more than having your home torn to pieces like this."

"You are still allowed to be scared."

"So are you…" He shook his head, "I'm not scared, Xua. It's not the way I work. I get sad. I get angry. I don't get scared. What happens, happens. If I get out., Great. If not, well, I guess that has to be okay too."

She put her arms around him and he leaned into her with a sigh. "I do not believe you."

He chuckled. "You don't have to."

"You must be scared of something."

"I probably am. I just haven't found it yet."

She could hear his even breathing against her shoulder, no trace of the emotion that almost overtook him a few moments ago. "I do not want you to go, John Smith, but the longer I keep you here –"

"The more danger you put yourself in… I know." He finished.

"In the morning, I will have you follow a path to my friends. They will help you get back to the Americans."

"Sounds like a plan."

"I will miss you."

"I'll never forget you, kid." Hannibal stretched his long legs out before him, wincing at the movement. "I need a cigar so badly I want to climb the walls."

She laughed. "You are strange."

"I am." It was neither a question nor statement. "I'll come back for you, you know." He said calmly... and she somehow knew that he would.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Hannibal clutched a cigar between his teeth and carried his military issue rifle in front of him. Sweat ran in rivulets down his forehead. It was hot. "Colonel," one of the men following him whispered. "We hit our objective. When are we going to go? Murdock's, gotta be waiting with the chopper by now."

"We leave when I finished the last phase of my plan, Lieutenant."

The achingly handsome youth behind Hannibal exchanged looks with his taller, scowling counterpart.

Hannibal knew something was wrong even before he approached the half-concealed hut. It was deserted feeling, lifeless, burnt. His heart did a flip.

"Stand guard you two." He barked, and moved to the broken door. He cast an eye over the area. Nothing. Deserted, destroyed.

"Shit," he whispered, knowing the truth, but not wanting to accept it. She'd been compromised. Discovered. Betrayed.… And that was it, her life snuffed out like a tea light in the rain. He checked the perimeter of the room for good measure, to see if there was something..._anything_...he may have missed. Nothing.

Hannibal swallowed the lump in his throat. There would be time for grief later. He touched his hand reverently against the battered, half torched wall; squared his shoulders and walked out.

"BA...Face," he barked. "We're done here."

Chopper blades nearly drowned out his words. BA looked up. "This ain't the rendezvous point."

Hannibal slapped his shoulder. "Yes it is, Sgt. All part of the plan. Face, bring the supplies."

The chopper had barely touched down before Face and BA were already inside. Hannibal took one last glance at the ruined hut and climbed in, catching the pilot's soft brown eyes as he did. They exchanged a silent look and Murdock mouthed _"I'm sorry_."

""Let's go, Captain!" Hannibal yelled above the rotors.

Murdock nodded and they lifted off. Hannibal silently watched Xua's hut become smaller and smaller, until it was only a brown dot, lost in the vastness of the jungle. He bid it goodbye and tried to put it in the ever-growing compartment in the back of his mind where all the other hundreds of casualties of war were stored.

Fini.


End file.
